Price of Freedom
by Victoria to Worthing
Summary: The next installment in my JA series! After Please Forgive Me, Borrowing Your Heart, Stacking the Deck. Please review! Very actionpacked!


Author's note: I haven't got as many reviews for either "Please Forgive Me" or "Stacking the Deck" as I have for "Borrowing Your Heart." I guess you can't beat the first one, LOL. But here is the next sequel. I kind of changed my plan for where this series is going, because I realized my original outline was kind of different from what the characters would really do! I'm working hard to make this believable, please tell me if these are in character enough, because I'm sincerely trying! Thanks TONS to all reviewers, it's so nice to have people's comments to look forward to. Please review this one, too! Thank you!

P.S. My fingers hurt like HECK right now because I've been playing guitar, and have not yet developed good calluses. So y'all had better appreciate that I'm writing anyway! Hahaha.

On the island of Tortuga, the loading docks were the rough equivalent of a men's locker room, and Jack was getting the brunt of that gossipy environment on this particular day.

"So Jack, I hear that you're mixing business with pleasure lately, aye?"

"I wouldn't call time with that crazy wench pleasure! She gave me a black eye once," another sailor ruefully declared.

"I guess a woman on board isn't such bad luck for _you,_ eh,Jackie?" 

Jack pursed his lips in a slight pout. "No need to let your envy show so plainly, boys," he retorted, flashing them a maddening grin.

Just then, Anamaria strode past carrying a large crate with admirable ease. 

"There's your fine mistress now," the first sailor (called Trout, for some incomprehensible reason) snorted.

Anamaria's sharp ears picked up the comment, and she whirled around so quickly that she almost tipped over backwards from the weight of her burden. "Mistress? Jack, what've you been telling them!" She marched over and gave her supposed "master" a hard swat on the arm.

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" he yelped, cringing from her blow, then reaching out to catch the box she almost dropped. "They just have dirty minds, you know!" he added, striving to sound nonchalant and setting the crate gently back in his lady's arms. She gave him an appraising stare and finally walked off, casting a suspicious glance over her shoulder at the group.

Jack grumbled once she was out of earshot. "Yes, _they're _the ones with dirty minds, so no need beating the life out of me… darling," he added hastily as he saw the other sailors giving him amused, told-you-so looks. 

"She's much nicer once you get her alone, believe me!" he explained hastily with a rather suggestive smirk and nod. 

He was bluffing, actually; even in her most gentle moments, Anamaria was an exhausting creature. Stubborn, opinionated, restless, and occasionally insulting, she guarded him from other women with an eye sharper than a hawk's and a full ability to back up her bark with a formidable bite (sometimes literally).

She had her good points, of course. She was rather easy on the eyes, especially when the sun beat down a little too hard and a man got rather desperate for any diversion of the female kind. She amused him with her quick wit and antics, and he admired her strength and grace as she climbed the rigging as nimbly as Captain Barbossa's unflatteringly named monkey. He loved they way she tilted her face into the wind when she thought no one was watching her; he'd often thought how right he was when he said that the sea was their first love. The salt breeze caressed her like a lover, and he rarely saw such peace as the aura that glowed from her in moments like that. He was surprised by the strong pang of jealousy he felt when he watched her happiness as the ocean's fingertips trailed across her skin.

He wasn't familiar with feeling jealousy over people. Ships—yes. Treasure—yes. A good bottle of spirits—naturally. But he began to feel a distinct attachment, perhaps even an air of ownership when it came to Anamaria, and it alarmed him very much, because he could only assume that she was feeling the same things for him. And Captain Jack Sparrow had never been owned.

Women had been commodities to him before, or at best, perks that came with his rather glamorous job. They were fun, he liked them, and they liked him until they got to know him well. He never went to the trouble of picking a favorite; his motto was "location, location, location". In other words, whoever happened to be at hand received his attention.

As it were, Anamaria was now most often at hand, and he had come to the distressing point where he couldn't shake her off and move on to the next available lass at will. The moment his old hunting instinct hit him, his mind instantly flitted back to Anamaria. She would be angry if he strayed, for sure, but more than that, he knew she would be hurt. And he was disgusted with himself for how much the thought of hurting her pained him. 

__

Though apparently she has no qualms about hurting me, he thought sarcastically, rubbing the spot where she'd smacked him.

Just then, someone threw their arms around his neck. He jumped, thinking one of his many enemies had caught up to him and was of a mind to strangle him (_Wouldn't be the first time, _he smirked), but then his apparent attacker began to laugh and he realized that the men watching looked entertained instead of alarmed. 

He chuckled. "Charming, Anamaria."

She just laughed again, standing on her toes and tilting her head to nuzzle into his neck. "Come over here, see this!" She grabbed his hand and towed him over to an ever-widening circle of people all grouped about some spectacle good enough to bring near-calm to the rough streets of Tortuga.

"Flamenco dancers!" Anamaria proclaimed, hauling him through the crowd toward the main attraction. "And they speak Spanish, too!"

"Lovely," Jack said, feeling bored as soon as he saw that the dancers were all male.

"I wonder if they've been to Hispaniola lately…" she said, standing on her toes to see over the assorted shoulders and heads blocking her view.

Jack was distracted by a buxom redhead wandering by, and when he looked at the spot where Anamaria had been standing, she was gone. He was informed of her current location by her perpetually loud voice, speaking very fluent Spanish. The flamenco dancers were apparently taking a break between songs, because all three were clustered around her, staring with black-brown eyes and conversing enthusiastically in their native tongue.

__

She'll be out of my way for a while, Jack thought, feeling inclined to go to a few of his old haunts without her constant supervision. She would barely let him flirt, and it was really ruining his reputation, which was, after all, his prime concern!

But just as he was about to sneak off toward the Faithful Bride, he caught sight of a rather disturbing tableau. One of the flamenco dancers (the best looking one, unfortunately) was standing unnaturally close to Anamaria, one of his hands on her hip, the other grasping her hand, apparently trying to show her a dance step of some kind. They were laughing, still blathering on in Spanish, and Jack's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He'd moved in on a woman often enough to know what such a procedure looked like, and what annoyed him most was that Anamaria, usually so prickly and defensive, appeared totally unaware… perhaps even complicit! She was giggling, looking coy, acting almost like a woman instead of the unnatural sea-wench she was.

She laughed again as the dancer demonstrated a spin by lifting her hand that he held and ducking under her arm. She imitated his movement, and the other two dancers nodded and exclaimed in an encouraging tone.

__

This wouldn't be so irritating if I could bloody tell what they're saying! Jack thought, straining to keep his eyes on the little group despite the milling crowd.

They were doing some sort of stomping about and clapping move now, fortunately no longer holding hands. But just as Jack relaxed, the dancer (_Bloody nancing git, _Jack thought) grabbed Anamaria about the waist and swung her into a dramatic dip, which she executed surprisingly well. (_What, do they teach this kind of thing in school on Hispaniola?_)

They held the pose for a moment, then the dancer ran his hand up her side in a disgustingly tender manner. Jack let out an angry huff of breath and shoved through the crowd.

"'Ey! You there!" he shouted so suddenly that the dancer almost dropped Anamaria, who straightened up with a startled squeal.

Jack came to the awkward realization that he wasn't sure what he wanted to say, and that even if he said it, the language barrier would take away most of its effectiveness.

"Keep your hands off 'er, comprende?" he blurted out lamely, thankful for the one Spanish word that popped into his head.

The dancers looked confused and rather scared, and Anamaria glared fiercely. "What's the matter with you, Jack?"

"What's the matter with me? _Me?_ I'm not the one letting this pansy practically ravish me in the street!"

"Ah, I see, you can chase anything in a skirt that crosses your path, but if I so much as dance with someone…"

"That's hardly dancing a jig, Ana, his hand was—"

"Why should you care where his hand is? You don't want me controlling your hands, do you?" She was shouting now, too. "'I'm not making any promises!'" she ranted on, mimicking his voice. "That's all I hear. But you just need to make up your mind before you go telling me what to do!"

"But I… I'm the captain!" _Captain Jack Sparrow! _he mentally added.

"That's what you are? That's _all _you are? Then you'd best mind your own business, _Captain Jack Sparrow!" _She gave a mock salute.

"Ana, you know I—"

"I know I can't believe a word you say, I know I've been a fool, I know I can't trust you…"

"I've been sickeningly celibate, you know that—"

"I don't want to have to beat loyalty out of you, Jack. I don't want to do this anymore. You're my captain, that's all you are. All right? Leave me be!" She ran off, leaving the confused dancers and one very conflicted pirate.

He could do whatever he wanted again; he was free. No more jealousy, no more trying to balance loving one woman with wanting every woman. But the sea air didn't smell sweet anymore, and he'd never felt so heavy.

A/N: WHOO! CLIFFHANGER! ANGST FIC! 

Ahem. Yes. What do you think? I really do need to write another sequel after this, I despise a sad ending, but I'm not sure how to end it! Please give suggestions in your reviews. I'd appreciate it so much! I'm so grateful for all the reviews this series has gotten! Thank you tons! And if y'all have time, I have a new POTC story up, it will be multiple chapters, and it's not a J/A, but it's still cool. Please check it out!


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